


They're Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!

by CharlieMistry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Blow Jobs, F/M, Hospitalization, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMistry/pseuds/CharlieMistry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland, a fairly normal man, is taken into Hetalia State Mental Institute after a "misunderstanding" on top of a twelve story building. He must adapt to life in his new "home"... Or be consumed by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admission

**Author's Note:**

> So, do you ever just get a fic idea that says "hey i don't care if you are living life, you fuqn write me, yeah m8?!!!" (I don't know why the idea talked like that)?  
> And so, I started writing it. And will possibly never stop.
> 
> Now, please accept that, obviously, I don't know EVERYTHING about psychiatric illness (if I did, I would probably cure my own before making up more), so, I do take a lot of "artistic liberties".  
> Also, I like writing smut. More artistic liberties.
> 
> So, please just enjoy and don't flame.

I am not mad.  
I put my trousers on one leg at a time, just like everybody else.  
But, _apparently_ , if you're found on the roof of a twelve-story building and you tell the police that you're meeting a flying mint bunny up there?  
Yes, apparently, that can give people ideas about your mental state.  
Which is how I found myself being admitted into Hetalia State Mental Institution.

I was led, by the policemen that had "so kindly" escorted me here, to sit in a plastic chair at a desk, opposite a young blonde... girl? Boy? I doubt they themself are even sure.  
"Name?" he/she barked, flicking through a stack of papers.  
"Arthur Kirkland," I replied. I had already learnt, through the whole affair on the roof, that compliance was the easiest path.  
"Kirkland... Kirkland..." he (I think) muttered as he searched through his paperwork. "Ah, here we are... Ha! You're that player that commit suicide because a frog told you to, right?"  
"It was a flying mint bunny!" I shouted, standing up and slamming my palms down on the desk. I realised my faux pas and sat back down. I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. "And I didn't commit suicide. _Clearly_ , based on the fact I'm still here. Nor did I _attempt_ suicide."  
"Chill man, I'm just the receptionist. Save that mumbo jumbo for the ward. So, I need you to sign this admission form."  
He pushed a sheet of paper and a pen towards me.  
"I don't really feel this to be neccesary," I said with a frown. Compliancy be damned.  
"Hey bro, we can't have you throwing yourself off buildings and talking to the easter bunny."  
"Why, I never!" I barked, standing back up. One of the policemen put a firm shoulder and sat me back down.  
"Sign the form, sir," the officer requested.  
I sighed and signed my name on the dotted line.  
"Welcome to Hetalia State Mental Institution!" he chirped, with a patronising wave. He got up and beckoned me to follow... He's wearing a skirt?!?! And I'm the one being sent to the loony bin?!?!  
The police stood me up and all but pushed me to follow behind this gender-confused lad.

"Nurse Hédeváry!" the odd chap sing-songed loudly, after leading me upstairs and through dark Kubrickian corridors.  
"Feliks, how many times must I ask you not to shout?" a pretty young Hungarian sighed, leaving an office.  
"Got your newbie," he shrugged, washing his hands of me. "Catch you later, homies!"  
The nurse sighed again then turned her attention to me.  
"Hello there, you must be Arthur!" she smiled kindly.  
Her demeanor is a breath of fresh air compared tothat last bloke.  
"Yes, Arthur Kirkland. I shan't be here long," I replied.  
"Of course," she chuckled politely. "Well, you can call me Elizabeta. Now, care for a tour of your ward?"  
I nodded and followed her as she unlocked a door.

So, the tour began. A bloodcurdling scream shook the hallway and Nurse Elizabeta hardly bat an eyelid.  
"So, this is Romulus Ward and will be your home while you're with us," she announced calmly.  
"That scream...?" I tried to question.  
"Oh, no need for concern," she said with a breezy smile. She seriously doesn't seem worried at all. "Now, first on our tour, we have the smoking room. Technically, the hospital is smoke-free, but many of our ward-bound residents _need_ a smoke. Cigarettes can be ordered through the reception line. All the details are in the welcome pack you'll find in your room."  
"I don't smoke," I mumbled.  
"That's good to hear! We do get some problems due to smoking," she sighed, arms folded. "Now, moving on... We've got the games room, the canteen, the art and music hall and the day room. Now, in the day room, you'll see that booth in the corner there. There will be a nurse assigned to that booth at all times, so if you need any help, that's the first place to go."  
"I won't need any help, I'm fine," I sighed.  
"Well, just in case. Now, I imagine you're tired and would like a rest in your room."  
"Ta, that'd be lovely," I sighed.

The nurse led me through the large day room, where a few of the mentally disturbed were loitering. One rather large chap was smiling brightly while the television showed a particularly gruesome news documentary. Chilling.  
"Stay close, Arthur," Nurse Elizabeta called. "These hallways can get a little confusing!"  
"Oh, my apologies!" I muttered, snapping myself out of distraction.  
I followed her through another pristine white corridor.  
"Here we are," she announced, peering round a door into a room. Two twin beds stood at opposite ends of the room. Both were adorned with blue checked sheets. There was a window between them, giving a sobering view of the hospital grounds.  
"This one on the right is yours," she informed me, putting a hand on "my" bed. "And this dresser here is yours too. You'll find a pair of pyjamas and a couple of hospital smocks in there. They're not exactly high fashion, but they'll keep you decent untill your next of kin can bring your clothes!"  
I merely nodded and sighed. The situation had ginally fully dawned on me. I don't know how long I'll be here. I don't know who I'll be surrounded by.  
I think the poor young lady picked up on my discomfort then patted me on the shoulder and softly said "Youvlook like you could do with a cup of tea. Would you like me to get one for you?"  
Never before have I heard such heavenly words.  
"That would be lovely! Oh, of course, as long as it's no trouble..." I replied.  
"No trouble at all! You wait here and I'll be back in no time!" she smiled, then left the room.

I sat on "my" bed and sighed to myself. Flying mint bunny sat on my shoulder.  
"See what you've gotten me into?!" I scolded him.  
I immediately shushed when I heard footsteps.  
Then, a long-haired blond, incredibly attractive, man glided into the room. He looked at me, and I swear, his deep blue eyes pierced my soul.  
"Ah, you must be my new roommate!" he purred with a strong French accent. "They told me you'd be coming here, but they never told me you'd be so 'andsome!"  
"I am not gay!" I barked, despite the fact that I am blushing like some fatous schoolgirl.  
"I never implied such a thing, mon ami~"  
I looked at him quizzically.

Nurse Elizabeta came to my rescue with a distraction and a cup of tea.  
"Francis!" she scolded, handing me the plastic cup.  
"I was just welcoming my new roommate!" he sighed.  
"Well, you behave. Arthur, don't let him bother you," she growled. Well, I'm bloody confused. And also fucking frightened. I have no idea why this guy is here, why he appears to be flirting with me, or what he's likely to do to me while I'm asleep.

"MEDS!" a military style shout rung through the ward.  
Francis swiftly left the room with an eager grin.  
"That's the evening medicine call," Nurse Elizabeta explained. "If you wait a little while in the day room, things will start to settle."

More than a little baffled, I shuffled out to the day room.  
A stern looking blond man in a white coat was barking names while a tall mousey young man next to him handed out cups.

"KIRKLAND, ARTHUR!"  
Huh?  
I wondered over to these two gents,  
"I don't take any medication," I informed them.  
"Mr Kirkland," the larger man barked. "I'm Doctor Beilschmidt. We would like you to take these until I can give you a full assessment."  
"What?" I snapped. "I don't need any medication! And furthermore, I don't know what these are! Why on earth would I just take them?"  
"One is a multi-vitamin and the other is an anxiolytic."  
"That means nothing to me at all!" I shouted. I heard someone behind me huffing impatiently but sod them.  
"The multi-vitamin is for your general health and anxiolytic is an anti-anxiety pill," the slightly taller, scrawnier man said, smiling gently.  
"I am _not_ anxious!"  
"They'll make your first night a little easier," he tried to reason.  
"Mr Kirkland, we have a lot of patients to get through," Doctor Beilschmidt said firmly. "Please just take these now and we can further discuss the matter at a more convenient time."  
I frowned, but snatched the cup of pills from the younger man then swallowed them with the cup of water he'd also held.  
"There. Not too difficult, was it, Mr Kirkland?" Dr Beilschmidt sneered. "You may return to your room, if you wish."  
I grunted then followed orders. So far, I am not particularly enjoying this experience.

Returning to my room, I found my peculiar roommate sprawled out on his bed with a blissed out expression.  
"Are you quite all right?" I asked.  
"Oui, I am feeling tres bien!" he replied breathily.  
"Really? You'll look a little... well... out of it."  
"I had a nice dose of diazepam," he explained. "And Gil has been tonguing his, so I got a nice extra helping!"  
"Pray tell, what is tonguing?"  
"Hiding the pills under your and spitting them out when no one's looking. I owe him a nice little favour this evening!"  
I raised an eyebrow. I'm not sure how I feel about sharing a room with some kind of drug addict.

Now what? I have no idea what time it is, my roommatw seems to be off-his-tits on Christ-knows-what and, awkwardly, I've just realised that I need the loo but have no idea where that might be. I cleared my throat in the hope that it would grab whatever attention this guy can gather.  
He opened an eye and smiled at me.  
"Is something the matter, mon ami?"  
"Sort of. Could you possibly direct me to the bathroom? Nurse Elizabeta must've forgotten that part of the tour."  
His smile turned to a smirk and he slowly stood up.  
"Follow me," he said, sweeping some of his haie behind his ear and licking his lips. Oh bloody hell...  
Despite my better judgement, I followed him out of the room, through the winding corridor.

We ended up in a fairly clean bathroom, well, rest room, I suppose. There's a row of urinals, three sinks, three cubicles and two electric hand dryers. Just like any other public toilets.  
"L'toilette. Anything I can 'elp you with?" he asked, his face dangerously close to mine. I backed away.  
"I'm fine, thank you!" I muttered, my face blushing despite myself. I all but ran into the middle cubicle and locked it behind me.  
I waited until I heard him leave before finally relieving myself.

Upon returning to our room, I found Francis on his bed again, but sitting this time. He stared at me as I walked in.  
"So, any more needs I can help you take care of?" he asked.  
"No, I'm fine. Can you just tell me what I'm supposed to do now?" I growled.  
"Amuse yourself until lights out at ten."  
I'm a tad worried. Wait, no, I am seriously fucking terrified.  
He's stood up and walked over to me.  
I stepped back, able to smell an exotic intoxicating cologne on him.  
"Mon cher~"  
Oh god, am I going to get raped?

"Hey, a new guy!" an excited cheer rang out from the hall behind me.  
"'e is my new roommate," Francis growled, pushing past me. He squared up to the man, another blonde. This second man pushed past Francis and started shaking my hand vigurously.  
"Hey man! Good to meet ya, I'm Alfred F Jones!" he announced proudly. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and led me down the hall, back to the day room. Looking behind me, Francis was stood in our bedroom doorway, arms folded and expression sour.  
Anyway, attention back to this odd American bloke.  
"If that frog guy, or anyone else, gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll come to the rescue!"  
"Look, I don't need to be rescued! I'm not some bloody damsel!" I snapped.  
"Chill man," he laughed, raising his hands. "I'm not calling you a chick, it's just that I'm a hero!"  
Oh yeah, I'd somehow forgotten that I was in the nut house.  
"Okay, fine, I'll keep that in mind," I huffed.  
"We can be friends, right, man?" he asked, sounding a little less cocky. Actually he sounds almost insecure. Now I come to think of it, he looks really young. It's kind of sad.  
"Sure," I sighed, holding out my hand for him to shake. "I'm Arthur, by the way."  
Instead of shaking my hand, he pulled me into, what I can only describe as, a bro-hug.  
Okay, I think I would prefernot to be hugged.

"Where's my hug?" mock-huffed a familiar voice.  
"Hey, leave Arthur alone!" Alfred barked, letting go of me (thank Christ) and squared up to Francis.  
"Ah, mon petit chou," the frenchman purred at him. "Who said it wasn't you I wanted to... heh... _hug_?"  
"Step off, faggot!" the younger man shouted.  
"ALFRED!!!"  
Dr Beilschmit past me and stood in between Alfred and Francis.  
"To your room, right now!" he ordered.  
"Hey, that's not fair! I'm the hero here! I'm saving Arthur from that sleazy frog fag!"  
"I said _now_ , Alfred! I will not tolerate that sort of language!"  
I could see Francis trying to hide a smirk as we watched Alfred being marched to his room.  
"Well, that was a nice little distraction."  
"Indeed," I sighed, missing home more and more.  
He chuckled to himself then pranced back into our room. Unsure of what else to do, I followed.

Back in the bedroom, Francis seemed to be up to something, though I dread to think what. It involves the window.  
I sighed and sat up on my bed. I picked up that "welcome" pack that Nurse Elizabeta mentioned. It's all photocopied (quite badly, might I add) on course pale green paper and held together with minute pieces of string. I suppose we're not trusted with staples.  
Although, with the way Francis seems to be trying to climb out of the barely open window, I'm not at all surprised. Actually, I kibd of think I should ask him what he's doing, but I think I'd rather not know and I certainly don't want any more of his attention. I turned my own attention back to the booklet on my lap.

Usually, I devour literature. But right now, I'm just staring at these symbols staining the page, like I've never seen a printed word.  
Maybe I have gone mad and the ability to read is my first casualty.  
"Are you quite all right, mon ami?"  
"Huh? Oh, yes. I'm fine," I replied hazily.  
"You look like you could do with a cigarette," Francis said, face still pressed to the window.  
"No, thank you, I don't smoke."  
"You will before long," he sighed. And then I realised what he'd been doing, as I saw him stubbing a cigarette on the outside window ledge.  
"Why are you doing that?" I asked. "Isn't there a smoking room?"  
"It's locked after seven pm," he explained.  
"Oh, right..." I muttered. "Can't you just wait until morning?"  
He laughed. And it was the saddest sound I've ever heard.  
"You'll understand."  
I don't think I want to understand.  
Another melancholy laugh, then he pulled off his shirt. I immediately looked away.  
"I'm going to bed now," he said quietly. "If you need a little privacy, changing into your nightclothes, just let me know and I'll turn away."  
"Thanks," I mumbled.

Now in these papery hospital pyjamas, I tried reading this booklet again. Francis is already in his bed, lying on his side, faced away from me. I appreciate the quiet.  
I still can't process this booklet though. I understand the words, I know the sentances make sense but they mean nothing to me. I flip the pages in frustration.  
"Ten O' Clock! Lights out!" came a bark from out in the corridor.  
Someone flipped the lightswitch in my room then closed the door and carried on.  
I put my booklet on the bedside table then slid into my bed. I have never felt so terrified of the dark.

Every little noise struck at my nerves. A scream from down the hall. Birds outside. More calls of "lights out!".  
A clock on the wall set the melancholy tempo.

What felt like hours and hours later, but what the clock stated had only been on hour, the door opened and someone shone a torch around the room. I pretended to be asleep. They left.  
A few minutes later, Francis crept out of his bed and peered out into the corridor.  
He ran back in, with another man following behind. In the dim light, the man looked almost like an albino.  
Francis prompted him to sit on his bed, then knelt down between his thighs. I closed my eyes tight.  
"You didn't say you had a new roommate!" the albino stranger barked.  
"Oh hush, mon ami!" Francis replied. I could hear fabric rustling. "Now, do you want this favour, or not?"  
"You know I do, Franny," he replied, breathing heavily.  
Oh Christ? Even with my eyes closed, I know exactly what's going on.  
A little more fabric rustling. A wet sound, akin to a slurp. Moans from the albino, followed by a sound of skin-on-skin; which I can only assume to be a hand to his mouth, based on his now muffled cries.  
Oh god, so _this_ is what he does for pills?  
I'm sharing a room with a gay whore.

A gagging noise, followed by a loud swallow; then a cough.  
"A little warning in future, s'il vous plaît?" Francis spluttered indignantly.  
"How? You hand your hand over my mouth!" he defended himself breathlessly.  
"Hmm, touchè, I suppose," he sighed. "I'll see you later; the nurse'll be along to do checks soon."  
Footsteps then the door creaked shut.  
Floor creak, bed creak, smug sigh.

I've just been about five feet away from a blow job. I have got the most inappropriate erection at this moment.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh for the love of, I don'd understand formatting. I thought typing this up in a rich text editor would be easier than my usual typing it all up in html but apparently not.  
> So, there are numerous things that are supposed to be in italics but aren't because grrrrrrrrrrrr

I feel like I've been hit by a truck and my hand is down my pyjama trousers.  
Oh Christ, I remember now, I'm in a hospital, sharing a room with a gay prostitute.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I don't want to be here. At all.  
My aforementioned roommate looks to be blissfully asleep. The clock says it's around 6:30am.  
I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing right now.  
I had another glimpse through my welcome pack, by the dim light coming through the shut curtains.  
It makes a little more sense now I've had some sleep, but it provides little comfort or insight. Mostly just don'ts, do's incase of fire and how to buy shite from the little shop.  
How's that supposed to pass the time?

Well, I suppose reading it passed a little time, as it's now 7:00am and there's a chap at the door, turning on the light.  
It's that young bespectacled blond handing out pills last night.  
“Good morning,” he smiled meekly. “It's time for breakfast.”  
“Okay, what do I need to do?” I asked.  
“Oh, sorry! It was your first night last night, wasn't it?” he gasped.  
“Yes. It's all a little daunting, I'm not afraid to admit.”  
“Oh, well, I don't think I properly introduced myself yesterday, did I? I'm Nurse Williams but you can call me Matt!”  
“Or Matthieu.”  
“Good afternoon, Francis,” Matt sighed sarcastically.  
Francis was practically cocooned in his blanket.  
“Bonjeour, mon petit Matthieu~”  
“Breakfast!” he sighed exasperatedly.  
The frenchman got out of and stretched out. Like a peacock.  
“Okay then,” he purred. He walked past slinkily.  
“Don't worry about him,” Matt smiled kindly at me. “He's all bark!”  
Clearly, you have no idea what he does in exchange for pills.  
“Come on, you can come with me,” he continued, still smiling. “And everyone usually wears their pyjamas to breakfast, so don't worry about getting changed.”  
I nodded then got up.

“I just need to knock a couple more doors,” Matt told me, as he led me down the hallway.  
I nodded.  
Oh god, Alfred shares a room with that albino! And in the light, it turns out that he is actually an albino.  
“Hey bro! Aw, you brought my English buddy! Heya England!”  
“Come on, Al, it's time for breakfast,” Matt sighed. “And Gilbert, that applies to you too. Would it kill you to wipe off that smug look?”  
“Ja ja, whatevs, nurse!” he smirked, getting out of bed and strutting past me.  
Bloody hell, I wish I didn't know why he's so smug. I'm just glad I closed my eyes before I saw... anything. Otherwise I'd need to bleach my eyes out.

“Did you sleep well?” Matt asked me as we carried on down the hallway.  
“Uh, yes. Not bad,” I muttered.  
“That's good. Okay, so, we're at the canteen. If you want to take a tray and queue up over there,” he said with his ever-present smile. “Think you're gonna be okay?”  
“Well, I suppose so,” I replied with a shrug.  
“Okay, well, I'll see you later!” he chirped, practically skipping away.

Practically as soon as he'd left, Alfred burst in to take his place.  
“Heya England!”  
“Is that going to be my name from now on?” I asked grumpily.  
“Well, you're from England right?” he laughed. “Oh wait, or is it Australia?”  
“I'm from England,” I sighed. “Do people call you America then?”  
“Ha, don't be silly, man!”  
“Oh, sorry, Canada then.”  
“Aw no, man!” he screeched sounding insulted. “My half brother is a little Canadian but I'm true red, white and blue American!” he announced. “And c'mon, man, we're in America!”  
I sighed. I don't think I can be arsed to listen to him any more.

Finally, at the front of the queue.  
The asian lunch... lady? Man? Is gender an alien concept here?  
Well, whoever they are, they don't appear to give a shit.  
“You want fruit loops? Cooked breakfast?  
“Sorry, what?”  
He sighed irritably. “What do you want for breakfast?”  
“I don't know!” I squeaked, feeling more than a little intimidated.  
“You're British? I'll give you tea and toast,” he barked, shoving some toast on a plate and getting tea from a machine.  
He shoved them on my tray and glared at me in a very “go away” sort of manner.  
Well, I guess I better go find somewhere to sit down.

Oh goodness, it's like secondary school all over again. I can't just go over and sit with people...  
“C'mon, England, dude! Sit with me!” Alfred called, pushing past me. He sat at a table next to a small brunet man who was smiling serenely.  
He patted the table at the chair opposite him.  
“Arthur!” another familiar voice called. I turned to see Francis at a table with another brunet and that bloody albino again. “Room for one more!”  
Flustered, I took the seat opposite Alfred.  
“So, why're you here?” he asked me.  
“Because it's breakfast time?” I replied.  
“Nah man, why are you here? You kill someone?”  
“Of course not! I'm largely here due to a misunderstanding...”  
“Me too!” the little brunet piped up.  
“This is Feli!” Alfred finally introduced him. “He's a homo but he's okay.”  
“There's nothing bad about being gay, Alfred!” Feli whined. “Love is beautiful, whatever it looks like. Though, if you'd ever felt my boyfriend's butt cheeks, you'd probably be gay too!”  
I'm not really sure what that little speech had to do with anything. I'm just nibbling my toast.  
“Pfft, quit callin' that guy your boyfriend, it's fricken' weird,” Alfred huffed.  
“So, um, what happens here during the day, hm?” I asked, looking for a change to the current uncomfortable conversation.  
“Well, I look out for everyone and save anyone who deserves it!” he replied. Oh yes, nut house.  
“I like to wait for boyfriend to arrive,” Feli sighed serenely.,.  
I'm sort of getting the impression that his “boyfriend” doesn't exist. Or maybe it's some kind of medication.

“Arthur!”  
Huh?  
Oh, it's Mattie. Thank god, a sane person!  
“Oh, hello again,” I greeted, then started drinking my tea.  
“At nine o'clock, Dr Beilschmidt would like to meet you in his office for your first assessment,” he informed me.  
“Aaaaaiiieeeee!!!” Feli screeched. Oh bollocks, what's this about?!?! Oh god, he's grabbed my sleeve!  
“Please get off me!” I whispered harshly.  
“Please just tell Dr Beilschmidt I said 'hi'!”  
“Okay, fine,” I growled, pulling my arm away from him.  
“Calm down, okay, Feliciano?” Mattie said softly.  
“Okay,” he replied, calming down back to his normal(ish) near-catatonic state.  
“So, Matt, where is the doctor's office?”  
I swear Feli just whispered “Doctor Beilschmidt”, in an 'Exorcist' voice.  
“Don't worry, I can meet you in your room ten minutes before and show you the way,” Mattie smiled.  
“Oh, that'd be grand. Thank you,” I sighed.  
I'm quickly getting very bored of being cordial all the time. I feel like screaming “fuck” right in someone's face.  
Why did Francis' face come to mind there...?

Okay, with everything being so weird, and there being nowhere else to hide, I am now hiding in a toilet cubicle.  
I should probably head to my room soon, to wait for Nurse Matt, but I don't really want to risk seeing Francis. He makes me feel uncomfortable.  
Oh god, someone's come into the bathroom. Pretend I'm not here.  
“England!!!”  
Oh great, Alfred.  
“You in here, England?!?! Did breakfast give you the shits?!?!”  
With a huffy sigh, I emerged from the cubicle.  
“England buddy! There you are!”  
“Yes, here I am,” I huffed. “What're you doing here? Did you forget where your room was?”  
“Alfred, don't take this the wrong way, but could you leave me alone for a bit?”  
“Why?!” he asked desperately. “Aren't we friends?!”  
“Yes, yes, just this is all a bit much for me,” I tried to explain.  
“OH! Riiiiiight, I gotcha! You're intimidated by how awesome I am, right?”  
“No offense,” I grumbled. “But that's not quite it.”  
“Oh, now, I gotcha! That deviant French bastard! Fear not, my friend! If he tries to corrupt you, I'll rescue you!”  
“No!” I snapped, “No, Alfred, it's just a little of everything. It's a lot to take in. Yesterday, I was a normal man meeting a friend after a long day at work, and today, I'm a victim of circumstance, locked in a mental institute!”  
“Oh, gotcha,” he said quietly. Then he left the bathroom. Well... that was a little easier than I'd expected.

So, after a few minutes of peace, I made my way to my room.  
Mattie was there already, talking to a barely dressed Francis.  
“I can check the spelling if you'd like,” I heard Francis say. Okay, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting to hear.  
“Don't worry about it! I've got to check it all myself or I'll never learn, eh?” Matt replied.  
I knocked on the door. Despite it being partially my room.  
“Oh, here at last, Arthur!” he smiled, “Francis sometimes helps me write to my French relatives!”  
I just nodded.  
“Did you want to change first?” he asked. I looked down at the pyjamas I'm wearing.  
“If it's down to these or a smock, I'd much rather wear these,” I said frankly.  
“Oh, that's okay,” he replied. “Well, Dr Beilschmidt is waiting.”

Upon entering Dr Beilschmidt's terrifyingly tidy office, I saw the stern blond doctor himself and, sat opposite him...  
Ah! My beautiful wife, Liz!  
“Arthur,” she cooed, standing up, walking towards me and enveloping me in a heavenly embrace.  
“Liz, I'm so glad to see you!” I whispered in her ear, almost crying.  
“It's all right, dear...” she said, her soft voice like an angels chorus to my ears.  
Breathing in her sweet scent gave me a much needed reminder of home.  
“Mr Kirkland,” Dr Beilschmidt said, dragging me back to this ludicrous reality. “Mrs Kirkland has brought some of your belongings. She's also here to aid your diagnosis.”  
I sat down and looked at her. She nervously started fiddling with her glasses as she sat in her chair.  
“Liz?”  
“Well, Arthur, I have been worried about you for a while now.”  
“Worried?!?!” I snapped.  
“Mr Kirkland, please calm down. Right now, we're trying to work out the best plan of action, but first, we need to know what we're dealing with.”  
I huffed.  
“Mrs Kirkland has told me that you have shown symptoms of depression, and of course, you were taken in after a psychotic episode.”  
“Psychotic episode?!?! What the bloody hell are you talking about?!?!”  
“You were experiencing fairly severe hallucinations when you were found on top of that building.”  
“No, I wasn't!” I argued.  
“Mr Kirkland, must I keep asking you to calm down?”  
“Yes, because I feel that you are blindly insulting me!”  
“Arthur, darling, please just listen to him!” Liz begged quietly.  
“Darling, I'm sorry but... Don't you believe me?”  
She doesn't look sure. At all.  
“Liz?”  
“Here are your things,” she mumbled, handing me a suitcase. We used to take this suitcase when we went on holiday. “Dr Beilschmidt, I'm going to leave now, if that's okay.”  
“Of course, Mrs Kirkland. Thank you for your time,” he replied, leading her to the door and handing her a tissue.

He closed the door behind her and returned to the desk.  
“I don't think I can make a complete diagnosis at this time,” he started. “So, I'll prescribe you an antidepressant and an anxioltic, as well as some talking therapy.”  
“How long will I be here?” I asked through gritted teeth.  
“You know we can't predict that,” he replied calmly. “It'll take as long as it takes until you're feeling better.”  
“Oh. Right,” I mumbled.  
“If you're feeling uncomfortable, you can return to the ward and I'll call one of the orderlies to unpack your things.”  
“Couldn't I unpack myself?” I asked weakly.  
“Only if you don't think it would be too stressful.”

So, I was escorted back to my room, holding tightly to my suitcase.  
Francis came into the room when I'd almost finished unpacking.  
“Are you all right, Arthur?” he asked. Oh god, he must be able to see my tears... How undignified.  
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.  
“I'm fine! What do you want?”  
“I just came to my room to relax, only to find you, looking distraught.”  
“She doesn't believe me!” I cried out, shutting the suitcase.  
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Who?”  
“My wife! Till death or alleged insanity do us part!”  
“It's okay, Arthur,” he said softly.  
“It's not okay! She agreed with everything Dr Beilschmidt said about me!”  
He slowly, gently pulled me into a hug. I couldn't help but cry onto his chest. He rubbed soothingly at my neck.

I don't know how long we were stood there.  
“Francis, quit being a homo!” that albino laughed, hovering in the doorway. “C'mon, it's lunchtime!” Then he dashed off.  
Francis let go of me and gave me a small comforting smile. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Thank you, Francis,” I replied, almost smiling. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought.

I took my lunch and sat at the table with Alfred and Feli.  
Feli looks like he's about to burst into tears.  
“Are you all right?” I asked him.  
“What did he say?!?!”  
“What did who say?” Oh dear, looks like I've opened up a can of Italian flavoured insanity over here.  
“Dr Beilschmidt!”  
“He told my wife that I'm batshit insane!”  
“No, what did he say when you told him I said 'hi'?!?!”  
“You have a wife?” Alfred asked, with a look of youthful awe.  
“Sorry, Feli, I completely forgot. And yes, I have a wife.”  
“Dude!” the lad gasped. “So, have you done... y'know... it?!?!”  
“Alfred, is that really appropriate?” I sighed.  
“C'mon, man! Just say yes or no!”  
“Well, obviously yes, but I~”  
“Awesome! Can I have a high five?!?! Even though I know where that hand's been, am I right?!?!” He loudly interrupted, holding his hand up high.  
I finished my sandwiches in silence and drifted out into the dayroom, then to my bedroom.

Maybe I am mad. How exactly would I know? I'm sure someone said “A mad man doesn't sit around wondering if he's mad”. So, that I'm thinking about it, surely, that must mean I'm not?  
Alfred interrupted my trail of thought, standing in the doorway while rapping his knuckles on the door itself.  
“Yes?” I barked.  
“So, what're you doing this afternoon?” he asked.  
“I don't bloody know!”  
“I can give you the Alfred F Jones tour!” he announced, far too cheerfully.  
“Well, I suppose I don't have anything else to-”  
He lifted me from the bed into a fierce hug.  
Oh bloody fantastic.

He pretty much dragged me out into the day room.  
“So, I gotta introduce you to everyone, let you know who to avoid!” he blathered on. “So, you've met Francis, he is trouble!”  
“He seems okay at times,” I pointed out.  
“Well, he's not!” he shouted.  
“Has he done anything bad to you?” I asked.  
“Well, no, but-”  
“So, you just don't like him?”  
“I guess you could put it like that... But c'mon, man, I'm the hero here!”  
I sighed yet again. Considering setting up a tally of how many times I sigh.  
“So, yeah, avoid him! He usually hangs out with Antonio and Gilbert. Gil's my roommate, he's cool.”  
I'm getting very bored, very quickly.  
“Gil says their group is called the Bad Touch Trio. I don't know why though, but I think it's 'cause they liked that song about the discovery channel.”  
The more he talks, the more I wonder if he's not mad, but actually just an idiot. But then I feel sort of mean. But then he carries on talking.  
“That guy over there is called Kiku. He's a mute.”  
I think I'd rather associate with that chap.  
“Ah, and that's Nurse Katyusha! I'm sure you can see why I like her!”  
I looked to where he was nodding and, oh, right, it would be her rather large... uh... Well, yes, I'll avert my gaze from those to avoid trouble.  
“So, your wife got cans like that?”  
“Excuse me?!?!”  
He mimed a pair of dangerously large breasts.  
“Could you stop asking about her?” I requested. “It's still a sore spot...”  
“Aww, come on! We don't see many girls here so please! Pretty pretty please!”  
“My wife is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” I growled. “And that is all you need to know.”  
He blinked. Fortunately, I think he's going to be quiet for a while now.  
So, I returned to my room.

Finally alone, I carried on unpacking.  
At the bottom of the case, I found a photo frame. This used to be on my bedside table at home. It's one of our wedding photos. In a rare display of strength, I held her up, bridal style. She didn't have her glasses on, nor did she have her hair in bunches like she usually does, but she still looked so stunning and sophisticated. We both looked so happy. I wonder when that all changed...  
I put the frame on the bedside table and suitcase on the floor, then lay on my bed.

I listened to the clock ticking as I stared at the photo. Happy memories taunted me like a dying man in the desert, so close yet so far from a drink of water that would save his life.  
My mind drew me back to the last time we made love. I can't quite remember how long ago it was, but every other detail I have memorised. I lay back on our bed as she rode me. God, the way she clenched around me as her exquisitely toned thighs helped her lift herself... and the way her small but perfect breasts bounced along with her... I couldn't help but sit up to caress them with my hands and mouth... Oh, the noises she made... Wanton moans, so surprisingly becoming of such a usually proper and delicate flower. I think she came as I did. I'm a little ashamed to say that I couldn't always tell when she'd reached that particular plateau. In the afterglow, we held each other tightly and I told her how much I loved her.

“Arthur?”  
“Yes, darling?” I whispered.  
“Oh, so I am darling now? Hon hon hon, I think I can live with that!”  
Shit, reality.  
“Sorry, lost track of myself there,” I sort of explained.  
“I assumed as such,” Francis shrugged. “You were almost smiling, and then there's the case of what's going on between your legs.”  
I looked down to see that I was indeed... pitching a tent, as it were.  
“Jesus,” I muttered, covering myself with my blanket.  
“I could help you out with that...” he purred.  
“No, thank you!” I barked irritably.  
“Well, I only came in here to get a sweater,” he sighed. “And should you need to relieve yourself of that, a word of advice: There's no lock on the door here.”  
“I'm not some horny teenager who can't control himself!”  
He simply smirked as he buttoned up his cardigan and left the room.  
I stared angrily at the doorway.

Then to completely spite myself, I wound up locked in my favourite toilet cubicle, crying, with my trousers bunched up around my knees as I wanked myself off.  
Embarrassingly quickly, I came, shooting my load down the toilet bowl. This is probably one of the lowest points in my life so far, I must say.

Having cleaned myself up, I returned to the bedroom, only to be told by a passing nurse that it was teatime already.  
So, I made my way to the canteen. I grabbed a tray and joined the queue behind Francis' brunet friend. Did Alfred say his name was Anthony?  
“Hey, you're that new guy!” he gasped, having turned around.  
“Yes, yes,” I huffed. “I'm Arthur.”  
“I know, Francis told me!” he replied. “I'm Antonio!”  
“Okay, nice to meet you,” I sighed, not quite stand-offishly, but not far off.  
“So, have you slept with Francis yet?”  
“You fucking what?!?!” I screamed.  
“Hey, calm down, man!” he laughed, irritatingly calm.  
“No, I will not calm down! How dare you ask me that!!!”  
“I'm just asking, amigo! It happens!”  
“Well, not to me! I have a wife! I am not gay!”  
A hand on my shoulder. I flinched.  
“Arthur, is everything all right?” Nurse Elizabeta asked softly.  
“Sorry, I guess I got a little agitated there...” I replied meekly.  
“That's fine, just try to keep calm,' she smiled. “Are you going to be okay?”  
“I think so,” I sighed.  
“Good. And Antonio, please leave him alone. Don't you remember how scary it was when you first came here?”  
“Si,” he sighed, returning his attention to the canteen queue.

So, I finally got my dinner (I think it's macaroni and cheese but it could be anything...) and hovered around with my tray. I feel a bit awkward again. I think I've gotten hissy with everyone I've met so far.  
“Hey England!” Alfred called out. Okay, fortunately, he's either really forgiving or really dim. I rushed to sit at his table, feeling a lot safer with him as an ally.  
“You wouldn't believe what Mattie said to me earlier!” he announced. I feel like I must've missed half of the conversation.  
“He told me I was being too loud and that I had to quit bothering Nurse Katyusha!”  
“So?”  
“He's my bro! He can't tell me what to do!”  
“Okay, 'Bro', he is somewhat of an authority figure, so, yes, he can.”  
“Yeah, by he's actually my brother! My little brother, at that!”  
“Oh right,” I sighed. “I guess there is a little resemblance.”  
“He may be my half-brother but blood's still blood, right? He can't tell me what to do!”  
“Isn't it easier to just do as you're told?” I sighed.  
“Man, you don't get it!” he whined.  
“Clearly,” I muttered.  
“'sides, I wasn't bothering Nurse Katyusha! I was telling her she was hot!”  
Oh good lord.  
“Hey~” Feli announced his arrival.  
“Hey bud!” Alfred greeted him.  
“Hello,” I greeted, rather uninterested.  
“I'm going to ask the nurse if I can see Dr Beilschmidt tomorrow!” the little Italian cheered.  
“Right,” I muttered, now directing my full attention to the heavily processed food on my plate.

After dinner, we filed out into the day room.  
The 'Bad Touch Trio' ran into the smoking room. Everyone else gathered around a television. For the lack of anything else to do, I joined them.  
The news is on. I think the world news has just ended, moving on to the local news.  
“Popular district attorney taken in to mental institute-”  
“Shit,” I muttered. I had to raise my voice. “Please, could somebody please just change the channel?”  
My pleas went ignored.  
“Who's got the remote? Please, please!”  
“Mr Arthur Kirkland left the courtroom and was found-” the newsreader announced. I dashed from the room, and hid in 'my' toilet cubicle. I couldn't help but cry. Hearing my situation like that... So official... And that everyone else could hear... And now they'll know who I am. My reputation... My credibility... In tatters.

Well, I'm truly fucked.  
“Arthur!”  
I don't want to reply. Okay, I don't think I'm capable of a proper reply. I'm crumpled up, on the floor, crying hysterically.  
A knock on the cubicle door. Like fuck I'm opening the door.  
A moments silence then some shuffling.  
“Hey!”  
I looked up. Alfred was climbing over the cubicle wall. I'm sure that's a health and safety violation.  
“You okay, buddy?” he smiled.  
“No,” I choked.  
He climbed down and put an arm around me. He tore off some loo roll and wiped my face dry. He pulled me into a warm hug.  
“No one out there's judging you,” he told me.  
“I don't care what they think though,” I croaked. “It's the people out there, in real life! Who's going to listen to someone who's been certified mad?”  
“I guess. I dunno, I'd only just finished High School when I came here so that kinda thing never mattered to me.”  
And now I feel a little heartbroken again. He's so young...  
“So, shall we go back to the TV? I think the news is probably over by now,” he smiled, helping me up.

Back in the dayroom, no one seems to notice that I'd even gone.  
'F.R.I.E.N.Ds' is on TV now. I can hear Francis arguing with a nurse to keep the smoking room open a little longer. I sense that this is the closest we get to normality around here. I sighed.  
I tried to turn my mind off. I've never quite been able to do it. Back home, in my spare time, I'd usually be doing about three things at once.  
Like cross-stitch, crosswords, cross-trainer...  
Is everything I do cross related? That's a little ominous.  
Well, I'm exaggerating a little but still. The point I'm trying to make is that I'm bored.  
But oh, here comes Francis to provide some amusement.  
“How am I supposed to last the evening?” he's crying.  
“Francis, will you stop making such a fuss?” Nurse Elizabeta barked.  
“I need something to help me cope!”  
“Can you at least try? Just watch a little TV.”  
He sat next to me and huffed.

The evening drifted by. I suppose the inanity of mainstream television can be somewhat calming. I was soon startled by the call of “Meds!”.  
Nurse Elizabeta and a new doctor. He looks like he's irritated to be here. And he's blonde, just like practically everyone else here.  
“Kirkland, Arthur!”  
I sighed and made my way.  
“Dr Beilschmidt has put you on fluoxetine and diazepam. Here,” he huffed.  
“Here's some water,” Nurse Elizabeta offered.  
“Ta,” I said quickly, before swallowing the first two, then tonguing the diazepam.

Back in my room, Francis was lying on is bed, staring at the wall.  
“Francis,” I said, closing the door behind me.  
He turned over and looked at me. His face is sort of red, as though he's been crying.  
“I've got something for you,” I said, holding out the pill.  
He sat up and poked at it. After studying it, his eyes widened.  
“You're giving this to me?” he asked.  
I nodded.  
He snatched it and quickly swallowed it. He looked so happy for a moment. Then he stood up, sneering a little.  
“What did you want in return?”  
“Nothing!” I barked, stepping away. “It was just to say thank you for earlier and because you seemed to need it. I'm not after the same things as Gilbert!”  
His sneer turned into a full-on dangerous laugh.  
“So, you were awake then? And you're definitely sure that's not what you want?”  
“I'm sure,” I growled.  
I backed away, dashing out into the dayroom for a while; just to get away from him for the remainder of the evening. I still can't decide what I think of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the title is from a song of the same name by Napoleon XIV


End file.
